Preface – 352 is a main road that runs parallel to the side of our property. I bought the house without even noticing it was there. I am not sure what this says about me, as EVERY POTENTIAL BUYER who has seen our house says: “Love your house; concerned about road noise.” This unexpected roadblock (ba-dum-tish) inspired the following poem.
352: An Ode to a Road
Your paved beauty stretches long and wide
Near our house, not in front…
Just on the side.
Lines of yellow on concrete black
To West Chester and back
Your quiet hum, low din, serene
Lulls us to sleep
As the day gets lean
Who would not love you, dear 352?
Alas, picky home buyers
That’s precisely who.
“A Curse!” say those who have come to see
Our house so clean
And priced accurately
Don’t they know? White noise calms the mind!
Brookstone even sells it
“C’mon, lighten up! Gimme a fist bump!
What’s wrong with a little bass?”
Thump thump thump thump
What about the ‘hood? Our neighbors are great!
But oh no, it’s the road,
On which they fixate
The yard, so private, a wide expanse
But goddamn the school bus
That rattles our chance
My mom says, “Distract them, that will work, you’ll see!
Pipe in some musak!
Maybe Lionel Richie?”
But the buyers still hear you outside the door
The feedback forms all say the same thing:
“Your house is a gem,
But that road makes our ears ring.”
What in the world is a seller to do?
I am losing my patience…
Damn you, 352!
I’m a slave to this house -PLEASE, NO MORE CLEANING!
I feel like my life
Has lost all other meaning
So screw this! I’m done! You are making me mental!
To Massachusetts we go
And our wood-paneled rental.
I blow kisses from the window, as I scrub the grout,
This is not working out.
You will find love again, and we will be spared,
Perhaps some city folk
Or the hearing impaired
Until that day, our lonely house will sit
Still filled with the furniture
Our tiny rental can’t fit.
All thanks to the road that just will not quit
Thanks a lot, 352
You stupid piece of……